


Pass It On

by golgothasTerror



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Love Confessions, M/M, One Shot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-23
Updated: 2013-08-23
Packaged: 2017-12-24 09:34:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,548
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/938383
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/golgothasTerror/pseuds/golgothasTerror
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dirk and Jake share a class period where they sit not far from one another. Dirk passes a note onto Jake, that he hopes no one else will look at first.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Pass It On

It's midway through 3rd period. You've got only one more hour to go before lunch break, and your brain isn't focusing too well on the lesson by this point. Your eyes keep glancing up at the clock, and the posters aligning the walls, and your friends who are seated sporadically around the rest of the room. It's a good thing that your math teacher is so totally into her dry erase board, that she doesn't even notice how much attention you're not giving to this whole thing. Striders can pass the final exams even without paying close attentions to the lessons. You know this from experience, so fuck if you're going to start giving any more of a shit now.

No, you're more focused on what's sitting a few feet away from you, off the side, two desks over on the right. Your eyes study him when they get the chance, but not too often. You don't want anyone to notice, see? Sure, you've got on shades, but your eyes are still slightly visible, especially from the sides. So you take quick glances at him when you can. The boy's hair is solid black, almost blue in the right light, but his eyes stand out as a bright, emerald green. You would know, you've almost unwillingly paid too much attention to them. They're covered by the lenses of some almost out-of-style, thick rimmed glasses, but even the lenses reflections can't do much to dull their color. You think that particular shade of green is your favorite. Mmhmm. 

He's writing down notes, much unlike yourself. Jake English isn't much of a math wiz, after all.

He once invited you over to his house after school, in some attempt to get a better grade on a test that would come the day after. You tutored the best you could, but getting him to understand the tips and tricks of math proved to be more difficult that you had originally thought. This kid was almost a lost cause. That didn't stop you from trying to help, but math wasn't at the forefront of your thoughts much that evening, not with Jake sitting so close to you the whole time. He was focused on the paper, or so you thought, but you were focused on him. His expressions when he concentrated, the way his hands moved when he was writing or problem solving, or the way he laughed lightly when he made some silly mistake. 

 

Once or twice, you had taken the pencil from his hand, and had tried to ignore the fact that all of the feeling within your body was re-directed to your finger tips.

You remember thinking to yourself that maybe study sessions at his house were not the best thing for you.

There were mental warning signs that your brain kept yelling at you, but you couldn't stop your eyes from watching him, or your mind from thinking about him.

Math period was nearly over, and your hand held your orange pencil steady, as words poured on to notebook paper before you had the chance to stop them. Your concentration was now fully on your writing, and you tried to keep your wording short and to the point. What were you even writing? Why? You figured that letters written to ones crush was certainly one of the most cliche pieces of shit things you've ever heard of. Though, you couldn't speak to him, not now, and you didn't want to text your words. You didn't want to wait until lunch period. You were impatient. Or rather, you wanted to get these words out to him _now_ , before you lost your nerve. While you were still caught up in your thoughts, and feelings, and while logic was still dangling out the nearest window.

Paper was being carefully folded, and warnings be damned, you were done writing the letter, and you felt like a fuckin' middle school girl.

Jake glanced at you quickly, and you caught it only because you were looking first, and you both snapped your gazes away elsewhere. 

Maybe he could feel you looking at him before? Damn. Oh well, it's not like you weren't about to try to grab his attention, anyway.

You looked at him more clearly now, to make sure that he looked at you, too. He did. In between you set Rose, with whom you were vaguely familiar with, and another student that you were pretty sure would've tapped you, had you just given her the time of day. Too bad your sights were already set on the boy at her side. You almost felt guilty. Except that Striders didn't let themselves feel all _too_ guilty, so, you didn't _really_. Dave would've told you to keep your eyes on the goal, after all. 

The note was casually handed off to Rose, mostly via use of eye signals. You intended to let her know that you wanted Jake to get what was written down on the folded piece of paper. She seemed to understand. If she had noticed, and just for good measure, the corner of the paper also had a small "J" marked at the bottom of it. Quietly, she passed it to the girl next to her, whom then tried to look as disinterested as she could manage, and slipped the note over to the target. Your eyes floated back up to the top of class, since you almost didn't want to see his initial expression.

Though, it's fair to confirm that you looked anyway, and oh God, he looked pretty surprised. You weren't sure whether that was a good thing, or a bad thing, and your heart was starting to sink in your chest. Jake was staring at the note for amount of time that was certainly longer than what was required to actually read it over. His expression softened as you watched, and he glanced over at you, brow furrowed. Your heart skipped a beat.

His eyes made a quick gesture over to the clock, and then back at your eyes. 

Class was almost over. Maybe you were going crazy, or maybe Jake English was telling you that he wanted to meet you after the end of the period.

Your fingers strummed the desk as you waited, and _goddamn_ , you had never been more simultaneously horrified, and ecstatic to hear that bell before in your life.

While you were gathering your books, and putting them away into your bag, the rest of the classroom had nearly cleared out. Looking up, and around, you didn't see Jake. He must've left, and you really hoped it was to wait for you, and not to run off.

You slung your bag over your shoulder, and left the classroom faster than you ever had before, and headed down the hall. You turned the corner, and under the nearby stair well stood Jake. He noticed you pretty quickly, and looked at you, shyly. 

You were involuntarily wide-eyed. 

He smiled, then, and maybe the Gods strike you down in that moment if Jake English couldn't hear your heart beating from across the hall.

The boy's eyes were locked on to you, and you swallowed as you gazed in to his. They weren't as vibrant from behind the hue of your shades, but they were still pretty. Pretty? What a shitty, girly word. Ugh. 

"Jake, listen-" 

"Strider." He stopped your words.

"I'd venture to say, that your little love letter said everything just fine." Jake finished, and then he smiled, and your body froze. You wanted to move, but he was approaching you first, walking up to you like he knew exactly how to react to everything. You thought that maybe, just maybe, it was because you weren't accomplishing much yourself, and someone had to do something!

Jake was shorter than you, and had a smaller build, but it was almost as if he had prior acknowledged this. It also as if he didn't care, because the next thing you knew, he was stepping in front of you, and had pushed himself on to his toes. Using one of your arms to keep himself steady, as he placed his lips to your own, and fuck every thing else that even existed in that moment. Wrong, there _was nothing else_ that existed in that moment. Your free arm had been helping to hold up your backpack, and but the hand that held it fell to your side, and so the bag slid off your shoulder. It probably hit the floor, but you didn't hear it. There were probably students walking around you, but you didn't hear it. The bell for the start of lunch period might've gone off, but you didn't hear it. Your eyes closed, as had Jake's, and one of your hands snaked around his waist, to steady his stance as he balanced. _I love you, Jake._ You didn't want this to end.

Perhaps, the rest of the school year wouldn't be so bad. 

Well, that is..  


  


_Wait, did I pass out there for a minute?_

_Shit._

If there had ever even been a school year, in the first place.

Your name is Dirk Strider, and you should know better than give in to the luxuries that your mind often throws at you while you dream.

**Author's Note:**

> I don't even know what the heck this is, or where the idea came from. I read some rather heart wrenching, demonstuck smut prior to writing this, and I wanted something fluffy. Then it got away from me. Whoops.
> 
> I'm so tired i cannot right now  
> i'll try to catch any typos later. hnnnngg


End file.
